Awoken from sleep by a trumpet-like blast from between his buttocks,
the Thing stuck his bloated, bluish feet into his slippers and waddled
into his kitchen.

On a wooden board on the table sat a loaf of bread. He
smothered it in butter, and ate it. And then he ate the rest
of the butter. And then the knife, and the cutting
board. And then he ate the table.

In the refrigerator there was a block of cheese on a plate.
The Thing devoured the cheese, and the plate, and the
refrigerator. He wiped his lips on his sleeve and, still
hungry, sat down on the floor. The Thing ate his entire
house, but there was no relief to the stinging hollow pain within his
craving bowels, and with a starved eye, he turned his attention to the
road outside his home.

On the other side of town, there lived a purple Oaf. The Oaf
never met an object he didn't want to stuff up his butt.
Stuffing things up his butt made them his own, and the Oaf lived to
take credit for things that weren't his. Sometimes he would
see an item, like a parking meter or a stop sign, and consider NOT
stuffing it up his butt. But then the disapproving
transmissions from space would get louder in his head, and he would
have no choice: up his butt they went.

One day he ran out of things to stuff up his butt, having filled it
with the complete Encyclopedia Brittanica, and all his living room
furniture, and his house. And with no place to live and
nothing left to cram into his poor distorted ass hole, the Oaf looked
sadly out at the horizon with the knowledge that it was time to take
his act on the road.

The Thing was steadily munching his way into the middle of
town. He ate police cars, and children selling lemonade, and
a taxidermy shop. The Oaf too was making progress, packing his butt
with mailboxes, and tourists taking pictures, and a pretzel
cart. The Thing's hunger was never sated, and the Oaf's anus
yawned like a black hole in space, eager to swallow up every schoolbus,
shoe store and horse drawn carriage that crossed his path.

Eventually, the Thing met the Oaf at the center of what was once a
thriving metropolis, but was now a barren wasteland spreading in every
direction, devoid of life or interest. They stood face to
face, each drooling from their respective hungry orifice.
Between them, on the ground, was the last living thing in
town: Edna Flan, on her way to the post office with a $30
check for "Bob".

"I am on the radio!" announced the Oaf proudly, punctuating his point
with a wet fart.

Edna Flan looked to one side, down the cavernous gullet of the Thing,
studded with thick grey teeth the size of paperback books and festooned
with chunks of semi-chewed nacho platter, zebra hooves and
librarians. A howl of rancid air moaned up from deep within
the Thing, and carried on this noxious wind were notes of lolspeak, and
self-loathing. To the other side, a long brown hallway
stretched before her. At the end of it, she could barely make
out the shape of a futon, some cement blocks and a pay phone.
This rectal self-storage unit threatened to gobble her whole, while the
looming mouth of the thing menaced her with a promise that she would
become like so many burrito specials.

Edna Flan was brave, and just as the mouth and the ass were about to
tear her to pieces, she ducked out of the way. The Thing's
lips affixed firmly to the Oaf's anus, and his powerful uncontrollable
sucking caused the Oaf to first invert himself, and then disappear. But
his ass continued to swallow, and the Thing was simultanously dragged
up into the void until he imploded and vanished.

Everything was gone, except for a giant, disembodied pair of lips and
asshole, hovering in the air above Edna Flan, endlessly suckling
against each other, an unstoppable force married to an immovable
object, floating, and turning, and pulsating for eternity.

Edna Flan had to go to the next town to mail that $30 to "Bob", since
the post office had been eaten, but the following week she won $333
million in the Megamillions lottery drawing and moved to a town where
everything hadn't been in somebody's mouth or ass.